THE invigorating breeze, stirring the leaves of the vines and rambler roses which grew in profusion over the trellis-covered veranda, carried, apparently, no comfort to the man seated there. He stared ahead of him, oblivious to his surroundings, the handsome rugs covering the veranda floor, the out-of-door furniture, the well-kept lawns and flower beds. He was only conscious of a growing distaste for the brilliant California sunshine, the blue of the heavens and the vivid colors of the foliage; they did not match his brooding discontent. A sudden stronger puff of wind carried a paper, loosely held in his fingers, to the floor, and too indolent to move, he planted his white-shod foot on it, leaving exposed the words: “By order of the Court.” “Oh, here you are,” exclaimed a voice from the direction of the living room, and a middle-aged man stepped through the open French window on to the veranda and sat down heavily in one of the lounging chairs. “Seen these?” tossing several newspapers on the table. “Yes,” answered his companion. “Washington doesn’t appear to have taken kindly to your speech.” Colonel Calhoun’s florid face turned a deeper red. “The truth isn’t always pleasant,” he growled. “It’s not nice to read that fancied security is fancy and nothing more. Japan has our measure, and has spent years preparing to become mistress of the Pacific Ocean.” “So they say--_here_,” and the slight emphasis on the last word caused Calhoun’s eyes to flash with pent-up indignation. “That’s Washington’s game, trying to make it a local issue,” he explained heatedly. “Whereas, the control of the Pacific affects every business man, every farmer in America. For the sake of our millions invested in commerce we must guard this ocean; keep uninterrupted our trade with China and the Orient; guard the waterway to Alaska, a country of still undeveloped riches; keep the path clear to the Philippine Islands, Guam, and Hawaii. Trade supremacy can sometimes only be maintained by war. We shall have to fight for it.” His companion nodded. “Shouldn’t wonder if we did,” he agreed listlessly, “when Japan says the word.” “Yes, and when she strikes she will strike quickly. Look,” Calhoun indicated a map lying across a chair. “We have well-fortified harbors, yes, but an _undefended_ coast line easily accessible to an enemy. Japanese spies have been caught with reports of these fortifications, with plans of the forts guarding the Golden Gate; and caught taking soundings of the unfortified harbor of Monterey. It means that some day the ‘Yellow’ man hopes to supplant the white American, as we, in our time, supplanted the American red Indian.” Calhoun’s companion laughed. “It’s not surprising that the cartoonists caricature you as a saffron-hued jingoist.”